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Life is But a Dream
Characters: Dr. Morin, Sparkplug, Spike Location: United States - North America Date: April 11, 2016 Summary: Ill and feverish, Sparkplug dreams of his dead wife. Category:2016 Category:Logs As logged by Sparkplug - Monday, April 11, 2016, 8:26 PM Autobot City, NV Spike looks at his watch and sighs. "Okay..." He then pulls in his Toyota pickup into the lounge area, so Sparkplug can travel a short of a distance as possible. Sparkplug manages to walk with his cane to the side of the truck. His coughing has calmed down somewhat since he got up, but he still doesn't seem well. "Is it time to go see Dr. Morin?" he asks, slightly confused. "Is Susan going? Oh, wait... Susan's dead." He frowns deeply, standing by the truck but looking around the area like maybe he's lost. "Spike?" he asks helplessly, sticking out a pale, mottled hand to lean against the truck. Spike folds Sparkplug's wheelchair up and puts it in the rear bed of his 2002 - era Toyota Tacoma. Now, he stands ready to help. Spike comes around the other side. "Right here, dad." He attempts to try to ignore what he just said about mom. He plants his leg on the passenger side and offers a hand. "Yup, we're goin' to see Dr. Morin." Sparkplug nods, and accepts the help into the truck without complaint. He coughs again, but at least it's a singular cough and not another hacking fit. He sits back in his seat, and slowly fumbles his seatbelt until it clicks into place. He then stares straight forward out the front window of the truck, barely responding to anything else. He coughs again, covering his mouth as he does so. Spike looks over at Sparkplug and gives a satisfied nod. He then pulls the vehicle out, and pulls away to Dr. Morin. Spike continues to drive to Dr. Morin's office. The warm environment - the scenery, and the music playing (Jason Isbell - former Drive-By Truckers country-ish singer) lulls Sparkplug to sleep. The fever-like haze adds to his deep sleep. The current reality blurs into a warmer environment for Sparkplug as he awakes in a hospital. The hospital is ridiculously clean - and private. He's surrounded by a calm environment, some flowers, and sitting casually next to Sparkplug is Susan. Looking the same she did a day before she passed. She looks over at Sparkplug and gets a cool washcloth and sets it over his fevered head. She looks down at her husband and grins as he opens his eyes. "Heyah...was wondering when you'd wake up." Nearby is a yellowed copy of 'The Bell Jar' - one of Susan's favorites. Sparkplug frowns in confusion. "You can't be here," he says, maintaining possibly more lucidity in his dream than he did when awake. "You're dead." And yet, the hope in his eyes speaks of a want to believe. "Unless… have I died? Is this the afterlife?" He looks around like this isn't quite where he expected to find himself when he finally went to the big junkyard in the sky. Susan smiles and says quietly, "Shh...just relax." She looks at Sparkplug and nods, "I've been waiting for you. You've had quiet a life." She takes Sparkplug's hand and gives it a squeeze. Susan studies Sparkplug's weakened form and says "You did it... you raised them both. And you managed to become quite a galactic hero in the process." Sparkplug waves off Susan's statement with a pale spotted hand. "I don't know about all that. I did what I could without you there, as a father, and as a mechanic. I just tried to raise our sons like you would have, and with the Autobots, I stand on the shoulders of giants - for real." Susan smiles sympathetically. "I know... " She looks over Sparkplug and says calmly, reading his thoughts, "If you're wondering... your father isn't 'here' - he's not in hell, but he's nowhere where he can hurt you here." Susan grins at Sparkplug. "So...after all of those Sundays where you drug me to church against my will paid off. Looks like you were right!" She looks at Sparkplug and smooths out his thinned hair. "So... you think you're ready..." She gives a skeptical wink. "I'm never too sure with you. Sometimes, I think you've packed up, but then, there's always a damn car to fix... " Sparkplug laughs. "Not sure I'm ready just yet - always so much to do, and getting' harder and harder to do it. I might have to throw in the towel eventually, but not today - even if it means seeing you again. I want to - so badly. And I don't want to be a burden on our sons. But still - I'm still not ready. It's selfish, but I don't want to go just yet." He frowns anxiously at the choice that seems to be laid before him. Susan grins and leans in, whispering in his ear, "See if you can give Spike n' Buster one more year..." Spike says, "Dad?" Spike raises his voice, but not enough to hopefully scare him. "Dad - we're here..." Spike opens the door and goes to get Sparkplug's wheelchair. Sparkplug blinks as he's pulled back to reality. "I'll try, Susan," he says quietly with tears in his watery eyes. "I'll try." He clumsily undoes his seatbelt, and looks at Spike, giving him a hopeful smile even through the tears. Spike blinks and studies his father's expression. "Heyah..." He slowly wheels Sparkplug into Dr. Morin's office. The nap may have reenergized the elder Witwicky, but that energy will quickly be sapped by blood tests, then chest x-rays, then after that, a CAT scan. The procedures take a few hours. But finally, in the afternoon, Spike and Sparkplug are at Dr. Morin's office. The doctor looks over the tablet of the findings. Dr. Morin shakes his head and looks at Spike, then Sparkplug. "It's strange...William, it's like... it's like... doing an interstellar journey in your existing shape...was a bad idea!" Spike frowns slightly and rolls his eyes. It's a good thing this asshole's one of the best doctors in the city. Sparkplug seems to simply have acute viral bronchitis - not great, but something that should clear on its own in a few weeks with rest and fluids. Nonetheless, in his weakened stage it could wreck some damage on his body for him to be hacking and coughing continuously. He's definitely going to be off his feet for a while until his body clears the infection, and he's still likely to retain a slight cough for a few more weeks while his body recovers. Dr. Morin adjusts his glasses and gives the news to Spike and Sparkplug. He sighs and says "That said... I believe that at least for the next few days..." He looks at Sparkplug and relents, "I'm going to admit you to Seattle Memorial." Spike breathes out. It's not what he wanted to hear, but it looks like in Autobot City, Sparkplug's condition has continued to worsen. Most likely he's going to need a tune-up at Seattle Memorial for a few days, then head back. Spike summons his cell phone and texts Buster, Ron, and Helperbot (in that order). Sparkplug frowns, and looks around vaguely. "What? The hospital? Why? It's just a chest cold. I'm fine." He tries to get up out of the wheelchair, and makes it to his feet unsteadily. "I'm going home. Spike, take me home. I don't want to be here. I don't want to die in here. Take me back to Autobot City." He curls his bony hands into fists and takes a shaking step away from his wheelchair before nearly collapsing into another coughing fit. Dr. Morin says plainly "You'll be discharged in a few days, after that - bed rest for two solid weeks, I mean it. No repairing, no interspace journeys - at most, some very light walking so you don't get pneumonia." He looks at Spike and Sparkplug and shakes his head. "I swear..." Dr. Morin walks over to Sparkplug and says evenly "You WILL die in Autobot City in a week if you go back. But I promise, if you go to the hospital, you will be discharged in a few days...and then, in about a month's time you'll be back saving the world for us fleshings." Spike comes in and gestures Dr. Morin back. He looks at Sparkplug and says in a tone that will hopefully resonate, "Dad... he may be an asshole.." He looks at Dr. Morin and says "No offense..." He looks at Sparkplug again, "But he's never lied to us before." He adds "I'll bring some books - it'll just be for a few days." Sparkplug sighs, and nods, sitting back down heavily. "OK, fine," he says before needing to take another break to cough. "Can I have some water?" he croaks. He fiddles with the wheelchair, trying to get his feet back into position but having a tough time of it. "Just a few days," he repeats, almost to himself. "You promised." He frowns deeply, looking down at the floor. Dr. Morin sighs and waves a hand, "Yes... if I lie, you can sic one of your dino-toads on me." Spike corrects Dr. Morin "Dinobots..." Dr. Morin nods. "Yes...yes. Now head over to the hospital. Your room is waiting for you, William." Two hours later... In a private room, the equipment on Sparkplug pretty much demonstrates how much a hospitalization was needed. He has a small cup of crushed ice and water, but he's also has a few sensors on his fingers, heart monitors on his chest, an oxygen tube on his nose, and a monitor near his bed, plus an IV in his right hand. Spike has brought his laptop up, and proceeds to do some work for Crosscut - in between his father's breathing exercises. Spike reads some more reports from Crosscut. Not the most exciting thing to read. In fact, they're pretty dreadfully boring. To the point where Spike begins to nod off in the recliner near his father. It's a show of fatigue, but a glance at Spike's overnight bag shows that he isn't going anywhere. Like his father nearly 2 decades before, he plans to set up shop in the hospital until his father is able to leave.